


Rhymes for a Phoenix and a Black Eagle

by soreto



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Because we need more of this ship, Drabbles, Drama & Romance, Historical, M/M, Maybe fluff, a bit - Freeform, but i try, english is not my first language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2019-10-30 12:14:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17828369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soreto/pseuds/soreto
Summary: They did not a have a story free of dread, resentment, or love. But in their memories, there are precious things, as vestiges of monsters.Oneshots and Drabbles of Gilbert and Feliks, some anguish, others can be happy memories.





	1. Once, when they met

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Well, I have read almost all of the Pruspol existent, and also their historical background. I think i'm in love with this ship.
> 
> Anyway, this has no beta and english is not my first language, so im' so so sorry for my mistakes.

He remembered that moment vividly, as clearly as the gelid season, almost able to cut through skin and will. How could he ever be able to forget?  
  
Whilst he will was a young nation, he stood as a powerful kingdom, who one day looked to a small child he found under a tree and snow, enveloped by fear and winter; under the white, there was him, a little nation—or yet to become one.  
  
"Are you lost?" He asked, kneeling before the small child with hair almost as stunning as white snow. What could be doing that unknown nation in his lands? Nevertheless, he smiled gentle and caring, feeling moved by how small he was then. "I'm, like, the same as you: my name is Feliks, Kingdom of Poland". He added proud and cheerful, like he always was.  
  
That was the first time they met, and the moment fate and tragedy began to being tangled in these two nations paths. The older one, was like a father, even like a mother, when deemed necessary to the younger nation, whose name was Gilbert; the one who was known as the Teutonic Order for a long time, more than he could remember. Poland taught the child the ways of beings like them; Feliks assured to state in his words the cruelty and happiness of a life like theirs.  
  
Soon, Gilbert began to grow unhappy, greedy, and that proud eyes hid the rage of oppressed, and denied, desires.  
  
So with the burning desire of being strong attached tightly in his dreams, and carrying the soul of a warrior, Gilbert learned the basics of war and blood.  
  
Their bond was deep, as was the frustration and humiliation being held by the Teutonic Order due to his dependency of Poland. Feliks adored the child, trying to offer safety and fraternal love; but Gilbert wanted something different, Teutonic Order wanted something different; he desired to found awe in his eyes, he sought reverence, and craved other kind of love.

  
"What...?" Gilbert stared incredulous at the green eyes of Poland, who smiled shyly in response to the surprise reflected in Teutonic's Order eyes.

  
"My King wanted me to be stronger, and it seems that Lithuania totally wants and union". Explained Feliks, playing with a piece of his food, waiting in the uncomfortable silence that followed his words, Gilbert forgot his meal in that moment.  
  
Since they were little, they shared their meals as a normal routine. Gilbert would remember time to time fondly of those times. Red eyes averted tha gaze of Poland, and answered: "I have to go to practice with the other Knights". He stood with fury and tension in his body. For some reason, he even felt humilliated. His emotions were poured with violence in his training.  
  
_Was not he strong...? Wasn't he enough?_  
  
He didn't want to be considered...no, he couldn't permit to be less than the country who raised him. Nor wished to struggle with his ill yearning of bringing misery towards that infuriating nation who started to accompany Poland, and also stole his attention: Lithuania, that pagan who keep away that soft adoration from Poland towards him.

  
He was a existence moved by the tides of god. Devoted and mighty he started to grow, to gain the roots of war craved in his soul; he got strength, like every nation would, like every one of them should.

  
Is strange how hatred, resentment and greed could bury even the deepest emotions—and yet, the love can still remain, as rooted as always.


	2. What he wished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jealousy is a dangerous thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm bringing another one. It may felt weird and with an odd pacing, an that's beacause I translated it from an oneshot of mine in spanish (Which names is "Caléndula") . 
> 
> I hope there aren't many mistakes, or felt too weird (this one is longer):
> 
> Thanks for reading!

How much he admired him, how he followed him in every step, and how he yearned to be like him while still not being a nation, and simple knight order; and above all, he remembers how much was he willing to do in his name.

Walking to the cell whit his hand on his weakened prisoner’s back, Prussia thought in his predicament while feeling under his hand how Poland trembled uncontrollably. Feliks, even in his miserable state, walked as straight and proud as always, or at least as much dignified as he could. The corridor became eternal for both, where their thoughts were lost in the echo of footsteps—none of them allowed themselves of showing what was inside of their minds.

Gilbert didn’t felt nothing towards that nation, really. The memories of him staring Poland in the distance, the fact of overcoming a fair amount of defeats against him, or the continuous desire of breaking him deeply because he couldn’t stand that Poland were joined with other nations, or even his contempt of Poland’s adoration to Lithuania, those facts didn’t meant anything to the increasing fury of him.

He and Poland were, in almost all the centuries he was able of remembering, enemies. Their personal resentments, or the fact of being close when younger, didn’t hold a relation towards the uneasiness he felt of watching the endearment Feliks showed to Toris.

What happened during the First World War, or the times when they partitioned him, didn’t involve his resentment, nor that pathetic emotions of the weak ones, jealousy. He didn’t stole Poland from Lithuania due to personal desires—his fixation on Feliks didn’t affect his decisions.

It didn’t hold importance his increasing envy that consumed his rage, and pushed him to turn his ire with violence against Poland.

He did what he must, nothing else.

No, he didn’t cage Poland because he wished to keep him away of other, nor asked to be the one in charge of his torture and interrogation. Neither was it because he desired to pour all of his frustration of all times he couldn’t get a little of Poland’s endearment. It was not his jealousy of Poland always preferring others, even though he stood out among the others nations.

No, he wasn't jealous, and haven’t felt nothing for his prisoner, the one languid and broken, prostrated on a chair in front of him.

“Are you already willing to talk of your resistance, Polen?” He talked coldly, assuring that Feliks heard his measured steps towards the table where laid the tools which he used to ´persuade´ his prisoner to talk, even if the Polish, surprisingly, barely, had said something useful.

Poland’s green eyes, before proud, looked tired and resigned to misery. Nonetheless, even feeling the atrocities happening upon his people, of almost destroying the heart of his land, his heart, Feliks didn’t answer to any question.

“Maybe we can ask Lithuania coming to help me”. Said Gilbert with a gelid voice, showing his back to the blond man, which moved scared in the chair whit the mention of his friend, the one who betrayed him…the one who can still wake emotions in the Polish? "Sounds interesting, Polen?"

Every time Gilbert heard himself talk like that, take the lead of the torture without remorse, helped him to notice how good he was in becoming in another person, in a monster. He was conscious of how the war affected them, especially when current war was showing much darker than the first one. There were days that he couldn’t recognise himself or believe the limits he could surpass: he couldn’t face how his demons were showing.

“Liet won’t do nothing”. The soft voice of Poland raised in a strained whisper, he was not used to talk in complete phrases which weren’t the normal negations of the interrogatories. “He’s on your side because it was the only option he had”. Answered with half lidded eyes, and the pain of being abandoned by Lithuania in his face, and, of course, the fact that none came to his rescue.

It was disgusting, it was not fair; how come Poland still defend Lithuania? He couldn’t stand it. Wasn’t Toris on of the nations who helped in taking down Poland? Who even saw Warsaw burn?

“Shut up!” Shouted angry no able to contain his anger anymore.

After, Poland’s green eyes shut tightly in every beating. Prussia took care of not going too far, and also of inflicting enough pain, trying to broke him more, just a little more…

When the German was finished, Feliks said nothing, he remained sit in silence, at least until the pain of his old, and new, wounds, were enough to make him unconscious in some point. Once Gilbert was sure of not being watched by Poland, he allowed himself to relish a little in that, almost forgotten, huamnity, and love, of his, which didn’t want to hurt the Polish.

He take that small body in his arms to the cell, and watched the still unconscious Feliks for a while. Prussia felt divided due his emotions, and that rotten envy which prevailed above all, which prevailed because of Poland’s strong will in thinking of Lithuania.

Many were the occasions when the sad cycle continued, and in those, the name of Toris surfaced to torment him, taking out the worst inside him. The truth, is that he barely understood the late years of that war: and was barely able to understand what he wished from Poland.

Maybe his negative emotions, that jealousy he felt of not being the one important for that person, increased with the passing of days, making evident the fact that his place as nation was a feeble fantasy nearing its end. It was for all of that, that he harboured such great resentment towards Toris. Also, there was the fact that Lithuania had something, someone, he wished since his first years on earth, all of his unfulfilled desires would haunt him in those years.

At the end, his time was running out, and he recognized his inability of fixing the damage he carved deeply in Poland.

He will drown acting on his jealousy, letting all his darkness on someone who didn’t deserve it; after all, no one is going to have the time of forgive him.


	3. The kingdom and the knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little of a peaceful past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! 
> 
> I hope you like it.

He smiled with endearment at the scene displayed in front of him: the child who wandered without home his lands, was simulating a battle with a branch he just found, while they were walking outside the castle.

The fact that Gilbert was born from a Knight Order surprised Feliks, but he knew well that the origins of nations were quite the mystery in truth. The older nation was still curious of how it was possible the Order's existence.

The child was skilled with the sword and battle, but still, as small as he was, he was still learning, and of course, his participation with the order was being carefully watched for the knights, trying to guide and protect their personified entity.

Then, Poland took upon himself the teaching of Gilbert—also the Teutonic Knights asked for his guidance. It wasn't an easy task, the albino was a stubborn and feisty child, but Feliks had a soft spot for children, and Teutonic Order seemed happy for his praise; in one way or another, they went through it.

That afternoon, he let Gilbert play a little with a branch he found, like it were a sword. Poland knew that the kid was fierce in battle even with being that small; still, didn't felt like handing any kind of real weapon to the child, they practiced with wood swords; but Feliks knew pretty well how much the child craved to participate in big battles.

"Did you, like, forget all your training?" Feliks reprimanded with a smile, almost chuckling when the small Order looked stunned with his words. "Your pose is awful, totally".

"That's not true!" Yelled offended the albino, clutching the branch tightly in his hand. "I'm too awesome for your lessons! And you know it!"

"Well, I'm like inclined to say that you are a bit good". Poland stood up from the grass and walked with his white tunic swaying a little with the breeze, he smiled proudly. "But you're centuries away to be awesome, or better than me".

Gilbert was about to retaliate, but stood still when the deceptively delicate hands of Feliks accommodated with soft movements his arms, and straightened his back. He couldn't suppress his blushing for the closeness and warm touch of the Kingdom.

"You're like totally fine now". Said Poland, being aware of how flustered and quiet become the child suddenly. He smiled feeling softened with that shy side of the confident, and cheeky, little Gilbert. "Your hold must be firm, and your back as straight as your sword, Gil". He explained, the albino just nodded still with red painting his cheeks.

"Alright..." The kid started to move his 'sword' again as if he was fighting.

Poland went to sit in the grass again, thinking of how fast was growing Gilbert, and for some reason that saddened him a little. He may be still not participating directly in battles, but Feliks knows that he's going to be ready in no time for it.

He was used to war, but Gilbert? The child seemed even eager to be in one—he didn't want to be anxious, but Teutonic Order remember him a little of the old empires who only wished to take as much as they can.

He wanted to be hopeful that Gilbert would be different, and there may be still centuries away of the little Order to change.

Of course, he was being innocent with his hopes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thak you all for the kudos! I'm really surprised for that, thanks <3
> 
> Any way, I want to say that if you have a request or a headcanon, I'm up for it!
> 
> Have you liked this little stories? I hope that I'm doing something a bit decent xD.


	4. At the end of fake fairytales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fragment for the far past, a memorie of the war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I think this drabble is a little better, like my english writing improved. I want to think that I actually got better, even if just a little lol. 
> 
> Byee! Thanks for the kudos and rw!

Everything was crumbling around, transforming into nothingness, and, he, feeling the undoubtedly nearing end, he watched their last days in a war where they were on the top of the world.

  
Gilbert was trying desperately to support Ludwig, not that they were feing ignorance of their imminent defeat, it was just that they weren't ready for the consequences of their ambitions.  
  
In those times of despair, and feeling cornered, pushed deep in a place with no way out, Gilbert would go to a certain room, one with a heavy wood door leading to a room whose key was hold by him.  
  
Due the land that they just lost, lands took by the Allies, it was necessary to move their hostages to the remaining properties. Prussia didn't hesitate to bring with him a certain prisoner, after helping Germany reubicating the other countries still under their control.  
  
It was strange how the end of the war was felt by their prisoners. A little bit of Poland  managed to resurge sometimes in his broken body.  
  
"You look totally awful". Said a strained voice that almost sound painful  to hear to the other nation.  
  
"Polen, " Pointed Gilbert at the man sat on a simple mattress they provided. Many of these rooms were storage space before. "You should watch your words". He told him sternly, like everything was the same as in the first years of war.  
  
Looking at the nation who raised him in that miserable state, it was painful; it hurts the most the fact that he was responsible for all of Poland's pain, he was the one who made him reach the deepest misery he could be provided.  
  
The end of the war bring despair for the german brothers, yes, but also brought the conscience lost during  all of those dark years—They realized in what they were pushed to become, and how much suffering was brought by them.  
  
But, they still had to keep on their facade; they still had to held the last strings of power, even if they barely can keep their despair at bay. Gilbert wanted to said a lot of things to Feliks, he wished to try to help those eyes to not look hollow and lost most of the time—Yet, he couldn't; and he didn't, or won't, have the right to do it.  
  
He did not have answer or complaining of his order, Poland was lost in his mind again, his  sunken eyes drowning in the refugee of memories.  
  
_What  have he done?_ Thought Gilbert at the limit of that repressed sadness of him, feeling pathetic for thinking of sought comfort for himself with Feliks presence.  
  
He yearned to sit beside him, and even to touch the golden locks of Feliks playfully, like he used to when he was just a small Order. But he knew pretty well, more than he wanted to, that he couldn't do that, that Poland himself won't be able to forget, nor even forgive him.  
  
He knew that those times just were sweet memories of lost times; the remembrances of the past returned in the late years of the war often, more painfully every time they came back. His memories showed him the things, and maybe love, that wouldn't be returned to him.  
  
Because he knew well that monsters never deserve love like those nursery rhymes tried to tell, and he accepted that fairytales were mere lies.


	5. Dance Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got this idea from 'Once in a Winter' Night by MohnblumenKind. So this little tale is dedicated to MohnblumenKind(who has the most beautiful stories, go check it out<3).
> 
> I hope the writting is better this time...If not, I'm so sorry.  
> Anyway, Thanks for reading!
> 
> I think they would dance something like 'Fly me to te moon' by Sinatra, or 'Return to love' a song used for Solty Rei's series. Solty's song always makes me cry, really...

Prussia swore under his breath, while trying to fix his bandages. His body was fully indulging in the pain of his wounds, something comprehensible, not long ago the war ended. Of course, he wasn't hopeful to get a warm and welcoming party once he were put under the crazy Russian's hands; so the first days Ivan assured him of how were going to be his days with him—Not that he accepted easily the beating, or the being chained he went through.

Was it necessary to even bring Poland to watch his kind of 'welcome beating’? Obviously not, but Russia and his madness got along well with humiliation as well—Yet, Feliks expression seemed sad while testifying his punisment.

"This child," A soft voice brought him out of his musings. "Are you, like, seriously, incapable of bandaging yourself?" Feliks entered the room, and sat on his bed, placed besides Gilbert's.

Russia wanting to make things difficult for them both, arranged the rooms in a way that they ended in sharing bedroom, knowing how much they seemed to despise each other.

 _What a sadistic bastard_... Thought Gilbert, in the beginning.

The Pole, even if his voice tone was harsh or a little bit cynical, He wasn't making fun of his struggle. Poland's face was more like stern, looking at him with a thoughtful expression.

"Shut up! If you're not going to help...Just go to do stuff for Russia, or whatever." Retorted angrily Gilbert.

He heard a deep sigh, and felt smaller hands took the tip of one of his arm's loose bandages. Red eyes widened looking Feliks hands rearrange his clumsy efforts wiht the bandages, and even taking out some clean ones under his mattress.

"I borrowed some stuff of Russia's storage room. I totally needed it, you know? I'm kind of healing well, but it's still a little annoying to walk," Poland explained with a little smile. Gilbert appreciated how inexistent was Poland's fear towards Ivan, to the extent of taking away with Russia's supplies. "Alright, you're perfect now". Declared Feliks when he was finished.

Gilbert felt silent for a while, and blushing he said while avoiding those green eyes: "Thank you".

"I almost thought you had, like, no manners." Said the polish man, still standing in front of Gilbert. The Pole, with no warning, pulled softly Gilbert taking his least wounded arm. "There's no way we are finished. You need to move to regain strength. I'm going to help you, even if you are an ungrateful child." He mocked, laughing a little when Prussia complained.

“Hey! You!” He tried to complain, but he still relented to the pulling of Feliks hand, until he was standing.

“I know very well that this is good to regain mobility, pruski.”Explained patiently to the other. “You should stretch with small movements, like trying hall dancing. So... like I’m bored and you need to move, we’re going to dance, Prusy.”

“What?!” Questioned incredulous the albino.

“Stop shouting, it’s totally stressing me out.” Sighed Feliks covering his ears. “Did you forget how to dance too?”

“I’m awesome in everything.” Answered Gilbert quickly.

“Like the way you just took care of your bandages? I totally doubt it” Feliks crossed his arms over his chest with a mocking expression.

“That’s just…I didn’t need that kind of thing, because I was focused in being an awesome fighter.” Retorted annoyed.

“I think that’s the only thing you’re, like, ‘awesome’, you know?” Said playfully, but Gilbert heard a slight hint of sadness in Poland’s statement.

Gilbert took one of Felik’s hands putting it on his shoulder, and he placed one of his on the waist of a very surprised Polish.

Poland said nothing while following Prussia’s arrhythmic steps.

“You are totally horrible at this.” Pointed shyly the Polish, with his flushed face directed on the floor trying to not look at the albino.

Gilbert rolled his eyes shaking his head, and tried to remember his first dance lessons, those that were given to him a long time ago, when he lived in polish castle. He also remembered the last time when he danced with Feliks, before his king made he marry whit that bastard of Lithuania.

He still despised Lithuania, it seems.

He thought how much he hurt the Pole, and realized how remorseful he was feeling since he the end of the war.

“Hey, Poland,” Called Gilbert frowning. “How did you…I mean, How did you managed to pull through all that stuff? Partitions, and everything”. Asked Prussia in a small voice.

Feliks raised his face and stared at Gilbert’s while he was thinking.

“I don’t know. “Answered simply. “I just felt like going forward no matter what. It was because a lot of people just wanted me to no give up no matter what, and just disappear. My people were the _awesome_ ones, I think”. Feliks smiled brightly, like the old times almost forgotten by both.

Gilbert was able to remember all the things he wished to say to Feliks. and He recalled why he came to hate Lithuania.

“Prusy? You look, like, lost, are you feeling pain?” Feliks stopped their little dance, examining Prussia’s face.

“I…I think I remember something important that I should’ve said before.” He blushed while talking.

Feliks blinked taken aback a little by the not so common image of Gilbert embarrassed. He didn’t remember watching Prussia like that, not since they were very, very, young. But Feliks, without being able to supress the urge of bullying the Prussian, laughed and pointed out with his index finger at the other.

“Is Prusy feeling shy? Like, I can’t believe it!” Laughed loudly.

Prussia looked at Poland angry, but he couldn’t maintain his annoyance; how could he be angry in that moment?

He will had time to be sincere, and give those feelings lost in time.

He was happy in that moment.

_He hadn’t realize how much he missed Poland’s laugh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the Kudos!
> 
> I think this it's going to last up to ten parts. 
> 
> I'm sad 'cause I'm working in a PrusPol/RussEst in spanish, but I don't feel capable of translating it correctly...I may try, who knows :)


	6. On the other side of the window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert wanted to be near the window.

Time to time, occurs situations that can led, with certainty, to a disaster, or, at least, it was that what the others nations under Russia´s Iron Curtain thought when the rooms were assigned, especially in the particular case of a certain pair of nations.

“What?!” Shouted an albino man, known in thatttime as East Germany, a man that was  shocked, visible shake with Ivan’s decision.

“You...You can’t, like, be serious! Are you crazy?” Poland complained, following suit the same Prussian’s surprised expression. The other nations looked with obvious horror at how those two just jumped to defy and question Russia’s words without any contemplation for their own wellbeing.

“You don’t like it?” Inquired Ivan smiling brightly. “I’m sure it’ll be fun!” Said the Russian happily, as cheerful as always.

“Russia, Sir,” Called shyly and with mild fear Lithuania. “I…think, just maybe, that it may not be a good idea, after all, them…”

“You don’t like them being roommates?” Asked calmly Ivan, and Lithuania move his head quickly to negate, and tried to merge with the nearest wall, imitating Latvia and Estonia  when Ivan looked on their direction.

“No…I mean, I just…” Lithuania blurted clumsily. “I said nothing. Mister Russia’s ideas are always great.” Said in defeat.

“See? Everyone is happy with their rooms and roomates.” Stated happily the Russian. “Everybody is getting along, so Poland and Prussia should do it too.”

It was an awaited result that the first days were a little, very, bad, between them, even the adjective ‘disastrous’ could be considered accurate.

“Just move away!” Shouted Feliks annoyed of the Prussian trying to put the covers given by Ivan to him on the bed, his bed, near the only window existent in the room. The Polish was pushing the taller man in the opposite direction of the desired bed. “I was like the first in the room, so that bed is mine, yours is the one near the door, stop being an asshole  , stupid pruski!”

“Nein! I’m still wounded! So the awesome me deserves the bed by the window” Said the Prussian, glaring angrily at the blonde who didn’t move and inch of his position in front of the desired bed.

“I’m the one who totally is more wounded, but I’m not going to cry like a child over that, Prusy,” Retorted sternly, crossings his arms while sitting on his bed. “That’s not awesome, so you know.”

Gilbert looked pretty offended by those words.

They went through all night long discussions in a daily basis; until Ivan had to intercede. Russia understood that those two had quite the tendency of ending fighting with each other.

So the solution was easy for the Russian: they should stay together all day to get along!

Their chores were arranged in a way that they ended doing the same together. Of course they would end fighting.

At least until they just got tired of their never ending quarrels, and realized that they were stuck in the same situation under Russia's rule, and certainly it was not going to change in quite a long time. 

One night, Feliks brought up the situation to face it along with the stubborn Prussian.

“I’m fed up with all of this, we just shouldn't, like, talk to each other or something.” The Pole commented. “We totally can’t get along.”

For some reason, Prussia felt offended for Poland’s suggestion. Lately, if he have to be honest with himself, Gilbert began to felt again comfortable with having Feliks around. He did know that they conversations were, basically, angry discussions over almost everything they tried to talk.

“Then, you are a coward, Polen,” He said with a malicious grin, trying to get on that impulsive side of Feliks, or his pride at least. “You just can’t handle the awesome Gilbert.”

“You’d totally like that, East Germany.” Laughed Poland at the idea.

“Then, prove it.” Gilbert demanded, widening his grin. “Will you be able to handle and get used to my greatness?”

“You bet it” Assured Feliks.

Surprising everyone, Gilbert and Poland started to talk like a pair of civilized men, even finding things in common. So they tried to talk a little before going to bed everynight.

“You are totally lying!” Exclaimed Feliks in response of Gilbert’s declaration.

“Nein, I still have my first sword you gave me, I think that’s the one I used to beat all the uprisings back then.” Added proudly the german.

“Sure thing, and, like, you didn’t need my help at all.” Poland smiled at the arrogance always present in the German. “I think some of my weapons of those centuries are shelved in my storage room. I would like to return to my home…” Added the Pole with nostalgia.

“Yeah…” Agreed the albino sadly, and looked towards the window behind Feliks who was sitting in the bed, movement detected by Poland.

“Why are you so interested in the window?”  Asked Feliks, remembering how much Gilbert tried to win the bed near that spot.

“I just…you know, wanted to felt like I could watch above it.” Said Prussia in small voice filled subtly with nostalgia, something that didn’t past Poland’s gaze, he knew Gilbert since he was a little Order after all.

“Above it…the wall, you mean?” Asked the Pole, understanding immediately what was the other implying with his vague words.

“I tend to wonder stuff like: ‘Is West fine?’” Continued the Prussian, looking down at the floor. He felt vulnerable showing how much he missed his little brother.

“Three weeks a month.” Said plainly Feliks. “But you have to share a little of your food ration, and do the bathrooms when I don’t feel like doing do it.” Demanded the blonde, letting a subtle smile brighten his features.

“What do you mean Polen?”  Gilbert comment quite confused.

“You can have this bed three weeks a month, just that; better be grateful, insolent child.”

Gilbert did horrendous things, ones that should not be forgiven to Poland—and Yet, Feliks was still able to smile, and even show him mercy and gentleness.

How he was able not to cry? He wondered when he responded to the Polish’s offer with a soft voice: “You…thank you.”

“So you know, you can sit beside me now, if you want.” Whispered with a shy expression Feliks.

In silence, they both admired the sky upon the landscape, and above that wall.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one!
> 
> They just keep getting longer, I don't think they're oneshots any longer...


	7. Lullaby for a black eagle | Part I: winter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm so embarrassed to forget this project, I'm really sorry.
> 
> So, I tought I'd bring something longer, but I guess it just got too long (I even send it to a Hetalia group in spanish to compete in a fanfic contest lol). It got up to almost 5K words, so I divided it in 4 parts (I may take a little time, I'm translating it as careful as I can). In this story, Gilbert is making a music box, you'll know why :).
> 
> The oneshot summarizes in this:  
> In the life of Prussia, there were many emotions that were confused with hate, many emotions that he should to say before, and in many of those decisions his worst emotions took over.  
> But Gilbert knows that words are not enough, not when he's trying to get back one lost love; so he decides to capture those memories, both good and bad, with an old lullaby that someone once sang to him by the sea.

He let the last component cool, the smallest and the most complex. He walked a few steps away, and then, he sat down on the dock that was kept on the other side of the workshop; he contemplated the last fading lights of the day to vanish once when an early star appeared. When the wind entered between some cracks in the door, he shivered a little. That night would be too cold, without doubt.

He sighed tired, he did really need to lay down just a moment, but he barely had started his project, a task for which, with the passing of the days, he wasn’t so sure of having the patience to keep going.

He leaned a little against a sturdy work table, while he rested a bit on sprawled on the stool. The workshop seemed very peculiar to him: spacious, everything inside it was organized with impeccable classification; he also admired how the place was perfectly equipped for almost any manual task one would require, at least with projects related to carpentry, smithy, and (of course), watchmaking; definitely, his little brother take his projects to perfection limits, even if them were personal, or just merely hobbies.

Germany, the younger of the Germans, passed a good amount of hours in that workshop when he’s stressed, manufacturing something simple, or more traditional things —like those cuckoo watches that also were of Switzerland’s liking—. He felt surprised that his brother, being as reserved as he normally was with his things, lent his workshop to him with quite the ease.

He rested his eyes looking up to the roof, and he took the opportunity of studying the white of the roof that was supported by pale walls. After a while in that position, he decided to go back to his labour; he really hoped to finish the detail in some pieces, at least before the night advanced more. He took his blueprints and he neared to the work table to verify again if he had all the necessary pieces, he didn’t want to delay that project anymore.

Probably the most difficult part of make the thing he had in mind was to heard Austria explaining the whole music theory to him, until Roderich deigned to help him in making the ´soul’ of that music box. But he did not have another option, the song had to be the same as he remembered, without any flaw. Gilbert was very confident in his memory, even if he rarely had heard the melody complete in the past.

He took a small cylinder with many tiny steel salient, and as he passed his fingers on the delicate piece, he hummed that song, one which Feliks sang to him in his first days as nation, one song he heard when he was too young to even hold a sword by himself.

And then, he remembered with no difficulty the first phrase of the song, of that tune which, like everything in their eternal time, would end changing through the centuries, until become in the song that lasted in the memory of the nation whom saw him be born: “There was a king…”

 

 

* * *

 

 

_His skin was completely frozen. His body was being covered in snow, and he barely had the strength to tremble. He was completely lost and alone; he still tried to seek refuge under a tree he found while wandering looking for a path that guided him. But, other problem was that he neither have a place to go back, nor certainty where he was, or where he came from; he just had the confidence that he belonged to a religious group formed by some men that hold a title of knights._

_Where did the Knights go? He felt irritated about getting distracted and losing his companions; he was so tired of all the walking he did since they were expelled of Hungary, and after, a sudden storm ended cornering him under a feeble refuge._

_He was so concentrated in his musings, that he jumped when he hear light steps nearing him in a strangely calm way. He got as close as he could to the tree feeling scared. But, he tried to look strong and proud as the other knights in the Order do._

_“A child?” Talked a soft voice that sounded more mature than his, but, without doubt, still had and childish air. Near one of his sides, a shadow was getting close, a figure a little bit taller that his small body. The stranger kept getting close to him while covered with a heavy red cape which shadowed his face. “Could it be that you are the one who was traveling with a Knights group?”_

_He didn’t answer, he still was trying to decide if the stranger was an enemy or a friend, and the covered face of that unknown person was getting him nervous._

_“Aren’t you, like, freezing? The storm is totally over you, you are under a lot of snow, you know?” Observed the stranger whom decided to uncover his face, revealing a face with fine features and green eyes. “What’s your name?”_

_“My name is,” Answered with evident pride even taking in account his furrowed brow and cautious attitude. “Order of Brothers of the German House of Saint Mary in Jerusalem” Said swiftly. Although the other boy looked harmless and so similar to what he is him, he still held a tense posture; nonetheless, he kept his guard high, as any knight should do._

_“A little, like, too long, do you have any other name? You can call me Poland, or Feliks, whatever is fine”. The other boy smiled and took one of his lighter capes that was under the red one that covered him. The blonde nation decided to not get close the Order yet, not while that child seemed so tense and ready to jump on him. “The Teutonic Knights are searching for you, you know? They’re like totally worried sick for you”._

_“People also call me Teutonic Order, and the Knights starting to call me Gilbert”. He answered, the Order analysed with furrowed brows the mantle that Poland held in his arms whom averted his eyes shyly when he noticed that was under a thorough examination by the albino._

_Feliks got closer very slowly, and kneeled down to extend his arms with the fine fabric towards Gilbert._

_“This will help you for a while, but first, you have to remove the snow on your clothes. By the way, your knights are staying in my castle as my King’s guests”. Informed Poland holding his breath when he saw the fierce colour of the order’s eyes. “We…well, I have a horse near here. Come on, when it gets dark it’s very difficult to mover around here in winter”._

_Like that, he got a new home, and he was taken under the care of Poland, whom didn’t look bothered with sharing a little of his lands with him, after all, he was helping with the uprisings that were attacking Feliks._

_Gilbert remembered the first night of that awful winter that he stayed with Feliks, he recalled with oppressive clarity the hoarse voice of General Winter lashing against the windows and scurrying inside the chinks he could found to finally freeze he rooms he could reach._

_The passing of General Winter keep him wake many nights, and he wandered a little frightened inside the castle until, one night, he ran into Feliks who was getting back to his chambers. That curious nation, in Gilbert’s opinion, that sometimes acted shy with him and some other times acted boisterous, looked him confused when he explained why he was wake at that hour. Poland did not laugh at him, he just kneeled down a little to calm him down like he’d do with a normal child (he always got annoyed of being treated as a little kid)._

_Feliks took him to his own room, and tucked him in his bed while accompanying him. And Poland explained some tales that the old ones would tell to children about winter, and he also talked of other things about those lands._

_When Gilbert drifted off, he heard the Kingdom sang one of those tales._

_Gilbert would often complain of how silly was to sing him a lullaby, but, when the fingers of General Winter reached up to the Baltic Sea, and his steps seemed to make the land quaver with storm, Feliks would sit at his side, and the he'd say nothing; he'd wait impatiently the warm,  the sweetness, of that old song._

_“There was a King...”_

_“[…] you should not fret my darling child…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is this, a Polish lullaby: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qFpjkrXFiBI#action=share
> 
> I hope my english is improving lol.


	8. Lullaby for a black Eagle | Part II: Wall and nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!

Prussia had to admit that he was not as good artist as he believed. The drawing of the music box was fairly easy; the painting of the intricate shapes of the King, the Princess, and the Page, it had been a real challenge.

  
Why was the clothes used by the Poles so complex? Gilbert thought often while he painted the small circular case, which was destined to be the ´body´ of the object. But, event taking in account all the difficulties involved in his project, Gilbert wasn’t one to give up, he just was that awesome.

  
“Brüder, You shoul eat.” Said a deep voice behind him. 

  
“Ja, Just a little bit.” Gilbert answered still focused on the task in hands.

  
Ludwig sighed and let a tray with food beside his brother, trying to no damage any delicate piece. Gilbert saw the dishes surprised, and he smiled with gratefulness to the younger german.

  
“It makes me happy to see that this is something important to you.” Admitted Germany with an imperceptible smile. “It must be very significative.”

  
“Well…It always have been,” Said Gilbert with subtle melancholy. “But, your great brother had a lot of stuff in the head, and forgot it.”

  
His little brother nodded in understanding.

  
“If you need something, just tell me.” Offered Ludwig before leaving to give space to gilbert and his work.

  
How much time he wished to give something like this to Feliks? Probably since, he remembered how important and irreplaceable Poland was to him. He remembered how important where those days under Russia’s roof for them.

  
It doesn’t matter how much grudge kept Poland, nor how much he tried himself to hate him; Gilbert never ceased to harbour that forgotten love; one that he attempted to negate and destroy, too many times.

  
He smiled remebering how he searched for piece of paper and a penci, trying to make the first scractchs of the music box, the one being fabricated by his hands.

 

* * *

 

  
How was that Feliks is still able of was look him at the face? And capable of enduring all his pain, all his fear, and not wishing to kill him? All of that were questions that he asked himself every time he looked at certain green eyes; it were the thoughts that drown him in the first night that he shared room with Poland.

  
Poland didn’t talk to him, and neither he was willing to let him know how mucho his presence affected him.

  
Feliks, in the nights (he knew), suffered nightmares; and his presence, most probably, was tormenting him. Nonetheless, Poland, whom is strong enough to rise numberless times, didn’t complain. Feliks did not looked for revenge; not because he forgave him, no, it was because he did not to appear weak. The Pole was wise enough to not wish living in eternal resentment.

  
Gilbert, then, did the only one thing he deemed reasonable (even thought if he wished with fervour to console Feliks— he knew he had no right to do it anyway). He hummed a tune, one that he remembered being too antique. He sang quietly, in a way that didn’t look with a purpose, like a melody that passed by chance in his memories, and juts looked similar to a dear melody.

  
He, on his bed that night, with his back towards Feliks bed, listened how the movements of that side of the room stilled, letting a tormented mind rest while listening to his voice.


End file.
